A Song to Remember
by hierocles-X
Summary: A series of Gerpan moments that tell how their complicated relationship advances. Contains a not-quite lemon, fluff and Nazi!Germany/Fascist!Japan. Human names used (for the most part).
1. Til I Hear You Sing

**A/N: I do not own Hetalia or the characters of Hetalia; these belong to Hidekazu Himaruya. I only own this story. **

**The best possible atmosphere for reading this story would be with the song **

**stated below playing (preferably). You don't have to…but… you know.**

* * *

_Phantom of The Opera – Love Never Dies_

**TIL I HEAR YOU SING**

_**The day starts, the day ends; time crawls by. Night steals in pacing the floor…  
**_Ludwig stared at the open planner on his desk. He took out a pen from a drawer and began to write regarding his day. It was another one of those bleak days that went by quickly, fleeting and most likely unmemorable. By the light of the flickering bulb above him he recalled the day's activities as a blur and decided to write the same things that he would write every day. The trend continued to the point that in the years after the war, he would write the exact same thing, although at times the routine was broken when he was allowed a timed visit to East Berlin.

_**The moments creep, yet I can't bear to sleep; 'Til I hear you sing…  
**_The old watch he wore on his wrist reminded him that it was close to 2a.m. and it would be best if he were to retire to his bed soon. He closed the leather-bound planner and tidied up his desk before slipping under the covers of his small bed by the corner. But he could not sleep yet, not without completing his usual ceremony. Ludwig slipped a calloused hand under the thin mattress and fished out an old, crumbling picture.

_**And weeks pass, and months pass; Seasons fly  
**_It was the height of spring then, the time where the best flowers were beginning to bloom, as was their friendship.

_That day was one of the occasions where Ludwig had been ordered to maintain good relations with their allies in the Far East, and so had ended up walking in the park clad in his full uniform alongside his longtime ally. Said man was wearing a yukata whose designs matched the pink flowers that were blossoming overhead. Ludwig had taken the photo when the smaller man wasn't looking, hastily pressing down on the shutter button of his new Leica and praying hard that he somehow managed to capture the moment of sheer beauty. The breeze blew the fine strands of black hair astray surprisingly elegantly and a delicate hand had shot up to push the disobedient strands behind an ear. Large chocolate orbs gleamed in surprise at the sudden gust of wind and the small mouth was ajar, commenting on how the wind usually messed up his hair._

_**Still you don't walk through the door; and in a haze, I count the silent days – 'Til I hear you sing once more…  
**_The year was 1952, which meant that it had been seven years since the war had ended.

_Seven years since Ludwig had seen the small smile on the petite man's face as he walked through the heavy doors of his home, often bending down to remove his shoes out of habit, but straightening up again with a sheepish look plastered on his face, remarking, "I always seem to forget…"_

Ludwig took up the piece of broken chalk on the floor and drew another line on the wall of his room next to the bed.

_**And sometimes, at nighttime, I dream that you are there! But wake holding nothing but the empty air…  
**_Sometimes the blue-eyed man swore that he could hear a soft, gentle voice calling out to him: _"Lud-kun? Lud-kun…"_ On more than one occasion, he had dreamt that the owner of the angelic voice was seated on his windowsill, thin yukata swept up by the breeze, exposing a pair of bare ankles. He had kind eyes and kept his gaze lowered, but Ludwig knew that he had his eyes on him. On each of these occasions, he would attempt to run to the accursed window, thereby snapping out of the dream, and realizing that the angel had gone. Once, he recalled that he had flung his torso upon the windowsill and looked around frantically on the outer wall for some trace of _that man_. He almost fell out himself, but at the last moment managed to anchor himself back inside his room.

_**And years come, and years go, time runs dry…  
**_Dawn came along not long after, sunlight pouring into the small room and bathing the half-asleep figure in light. He blinked away the grogginess of morning and started to get ready for work. Glancing for the last time at the marked wall, Ludwig turned to walk towards the bathroom. There was one thing that was keeping his spirits up – the chance of meeting him again. The time was coming. He just didn't know if he could muster up enough strength to carry out all the necessary procedures.

_**Still I ache down to the core; my broken soul can't be alive and whole – 'Til I hear you sing once more  
**_Ludwig glanced at his watch and it showed 12p.m. It was time for his lunch break. He took out his tin lunchbox and started to gnaw on the sandwich he had made that morning. Ludwig hated his lunch break. Lunch break meant that he was going to sit in his office alone and not be preoccupied by work. Not being preoccupied by work gave his mind the freedom to roam into his memories. Often he would catch a whiff off that scent, subtle and sweet. Then he would remember everything in agonizing clarity.

_No one questioned the increased level of privacy that he would demand from his subordinates during visits from their Japanese allies. No one asked why Ludwig would close all the windows, pull the curtains shut and lock the door of his office. The smaller man was straddled on his lap, locked in a sensual embrace. Ludwig had to admit, the Japanese man was surprisingly experienced in these matters, though he himself had dappled in it before the war. He honestly didn't expect that one could go so far without undressing. It was ecstasy, their superiors had no clue and business arrangements would go smoothly afterwards. It was a win-win situation, a bonus, and neither of them bothered to stop._

_**And music, your music, it teases at my ear…  
**_The German man swallowed a mouthful of sandwich and tried to calm himself. He felt guilty for betraying his superiors at the time, but he was happy that their blissful encounters had advanced into the uncharted waters of love.

_Their encounters had been passionate, but never left any marks or evidence. The Asian man clad in the black uniform would often pace around Ludwig's seat and table, whispering erotically into his ear about business matters: "And the blueprints, Lud-kun? You'll teach me…?" _

The voice echoes in his head, pounding in his ears.

_**I turn and it fades away and you're not here!**_

He keeps his head down as though he's staring at his paperwork, but his eyes roam the room hungrily, looking for the source of that voice. He cannot forget it, not while he is still breathing and alive. But sometimes the voice speaks in more heart wrenching tones: _"It hurts, Lud-kun…help me…"_

He can almost feel a cold bony hand on top of his, badly bruised and littered with burns.

_**Let hopes pass, let dreams pass, let them die!  
**_They had stripped him, burnt his uniforms, threw out his medals and smashed the eagle into smithereens. They had denounced everything he believed in and called him a monster. Then they told him that that man had been broken. They had taken his precious from him. He felt hollow. So very hollow. Germany had been torn down, piece by piece, broken into two like some toy unable to be shared, and his soul mate kept away from him. It took him quite some time to start acting like a person instead of a country. He had little hope or willpower; days being led by the four who controlled him like a puppet. He felt immense pain, sorrow, and loneliness. He couldn't think, he just let them think for him. The helplessness comforted him.

_**Without you, what are they for? I'll always feel no more than halfway real – 'Til I hear you sing once more!**_

Ludwig walked home in dreaded silence. Memories loved to assault him, pouncing on him at the most unexpected moments.

_The staff car sped on the cobbled streets, whizzing past civilians and saluting subordinates. The delicate hand had slipped over a larger, gloved one but the owner of the delicate hand stared out into the evening as though he had not noticed the act committed by the offending hand. Ludwig understood and glanced out into the streets as well, clasping the other's hand tightly in his own. _

He trudged on home as fast as he could, dying to check his calendar again and see how long it would be until the time where he could meet _Honda Kiku _again.


	2. Masquerade

**A/N: I do not own Hetalia or the characters of Hetalia; these belong to Hidekazu Himaruya. I only own this story. **

**The best possible atmosphere for reading this story would be with the song **

**stated below playing (preferably). You don't have to…but… you know.**

* * *

_Phantom of The Opera_

**MASQUERADE**

_**Masquerade! Paper faces on parade. Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!  
**_It had taken him a few calls to his retired intelligence officers, the old forger that lived across the street and the pawning of several pieces of furniture but all was well. He had gotten his hands on an invitation to _that man_'s masquerade. He wasn't invited, but he hadn't been barred from it _per se_. Ludwig calmed his nerves and straightened out his suit. His hair, which was now thick and longer than it had been in 12 years, was styled with generous amounts of cream into highly fashionable pompadour. The immaculate double-breasted suit was completed with a pair of handmade leather shoes, black and a Venetian masquerade mask. The mask itself was a gift from Feliciano which he previously had no use for, but the suit and the shoes had cost him a bomb.

_**Masquerade! Every face a different shade. Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!  
**_They asked no questions at the door and silently took his hat and overcoat from him, to his relief. He blended into the crowd quite well, albeit the too extravagant mask. Ludwig took up a glass of red wine from one of the waiters and leaned against a nearby pillar. He stood on the second floor and had a good view of the dance floor. Blue eyes scanned the dance floor meticulously, but to an observer the orbs seemed glazed with a sheen of indifference.

_**Flash of mauve, splash of puce, fool and king, ghoul and goose. Green and black, queen and priest, trace of rouge, face of beast. Faces!  
**_An odd pair of men who were dancing in the center of the room had caught his eye. A blonde-haired _fool_ – that was the only thing that came to mind as Ludwig set his eyes upon the garish blue, red and white stripes upon the suit and the monocle – was dancing with a shorter, raven-haired man dressed in monochrome. Ludwig strode purposefully towards the two men and put on a confident, chivalrous façade.

_**Take your turn, take a ride, on the merry-go-round, in an inhuman race!**_

"_Mister Jones, Mister Honda, what a pleasure to meet you two tonight!"_

He had taken it suavely, cruising upon Alfred's cluelessness regarding his identity and _his precious'_ intrigued eyes. The fact that he had recognized them but they had yet to recognize him meant that he had won the game that evening. _That man_ rarely made any extreme expressions that would give away his true feelings, favouring neutrality above all things, however, Ludwig had realized that his emotion usually showed in his eyes. It was faint and fleeting, but he swore that the petite man's face flushed red as he kissed the back of his hand and led him away from Alfred. They danced and swiveled around the room effortlessly, keeping a polite distance away from each other.

_**Eye of gold, thigh of blue, true is false, who is who? Curl of lip, swirl of gown, ace of hearts, face of clown. Faces!  
**_The Japanese man gently pulled his dance partner to the side and led him into the balcony on the second floor, which was veiled from the view of the passers by of the corridor by a heavy velvet curtain. Throughout the duration of their dancing, he tried to recall all of the guests he had invited. None of them seemed to fit the build of this mysterious man. The man spoke fluent English, but was clearly a non-native speaker. He offered him a glass of wine in the manner of European men, but seemed impassive regarding the drink itself. That ruled out the possibility of two nationalities. He needed to hear his accent.

"_Will you humour me for a little longer?"_

_**Drink it in, drink it up, 'til you've drowned in the light, in the sound. But who can name the face?  
**_With a little coaxing, he managed to get the stranger to talk about himself. The reply was mostly vague and an attempt at a romantic remark had been thrown in. He spoke of fairy tales with sureness in his voice, but preferred to speak of cars, science and politics. An oddball indeed. But he had got him figured out. It was a shocking discovery, but nonetheless pleasing.

"_I'm sure you could teach me more about it…."_

Ludwig felt a shiver run down his spine as _that man_ whispered those words into his ear.

_**Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds. Masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!  
**_They had shared a chaste kiss that left Ludwig's lips on fire and decided that it would be best for them to move to the private parlour located at the back of the building. To pass to said room, the pair had to go through the dance floor on the first floor. Ludwig held on to _his dearest's_ hand as though it was his only lifeline, not wanting to let go and lose _him _again. The vibrant colours of ladies' dresses blinded him momentarily, their hems swished about them, the pulse and swing of the crowd threatened to pull the two apart.

_**Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads. Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!  
**_Ludwig tried his best to keep his eyes trained upon the smaller man in front of him. He knew what was to come, and admitted that it wasn't the best reunion that he had hoped for, but just like old times, he didn't want to stop. The smiles that were painted on the porcelain masks seemed to follow them throughout the room, seeming to say: _"Go on, you know you want to! Claim your bride!"_

The elaborate mask obscured his face, but the tightness in his groin could not be obscured so easily.

_**Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies. Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!  
**_Behind the masks and painted fans, the guests whispered. Who was the stranger who dared to bring the host of the party away, to dance with him and keep him to himself? Rumours started to fly: A prince from a faraway land, a phantom that haunted the Japanese man's past life, a male courtesan that had been hired for the host's personal entertainment. They had suspicions regarding the identity of the uninvited guests, but none dared to carry out a confrontation. Not many had seen Ludwig after the war, his weight loss, untamed hair and voice made him unrecognizeable.

_**Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes. Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you!  
**_The Asian man was sprawled on the day bed, his clothes discarded haphazardly on the floor, head resting on the frame and a delicate hand on his forehead, in attempt to block out the garish lamplight. Soft gasps and moans filled the parlour, accompanied by wet slurping sounds. The heat had pooled in his stomach as the German man between his legs devoured his member enthusiastically. A thin film of sweat covered their bodies. Soon enough the both of them were starting to become impatient. The preparation was hasty but sufficient, both parties dying to become one again. No one corner of the room had been spared from their zealous lovemaking. With the Japanese man's back against the door, Ludwig gripped his hips tightly and rocked their bodies together. The cool night air assaulted the carpet burns on Kiku's back as he bounced on the blond man's crotch. Not long after that, both men reached their climax. The room was silent save for their pants, and the tired smiles painted on their faces expressed their unspoken happiness attained from the swift reunion. The two young men broke out in childish giggles as tears of mirth gathered at the corners of their eyes.

"_I love you…"_


	3. Think of Me

**A/N: ****I do not own Hetalia or the characters of Hetalia; these belong to Hidekazu Himaruya. I only own this story. The best possible atmosphere for reading this story would be with the song stated below playing (preferably). You don't have to…but… you know.  
Thank you for your support, please continue reading~  
P.S. this is the version sung by Sierra Boggess, apologies if the lyrics are a little off  
P.P.S Apologies if Kiku sounds kind of OOC.**

* * *

_Phantom of The Opera  
_**THINK OF ME**

_**Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye…  
**_Kiku rolled over on his futon, letting out a heavy sigh. The Venetian masquerade mask fell from his grasp and its empty eyes stared into his own hazel ones. Although the owner of the abovementioned mask was long gone, he swore that he felt the stare of those icy blue eyes on his person. Kiku shivered slightly, reminiscing in last night's festivities. It felt like a dream, but the soreness of his arse reminded him otherwise. The fact that _his_ mask was in Kiku's possession was also evidence that what transpired last night was in fact… very real.

_**Remember me every so often; promise me you'll try…  
**_He stood up and went to sit outside, in the balcony facing his cherry blossom trees. The Asian man gazed at the spot under the trees fondly. To him, it didn't seem like too long ago that two power-giddy souls had stood under trees like those, dreaming about the world in their hands and each other in their arms. There weren't many pleasant events that occurred during that time, and it was these short meetings with _him_ that softened his memories of that time period. Being over a thousand years old, he had many memories but the ones that included _him_ were always more outstanding than the rest.

_**On that day, that not so distant day, when you are faraway and free – If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me!  
**_Bringing his gaze up to the blue sky, Kiku wondered if _he_ was thinking of him too. After their escapade last night, he had given his mask to Kiku as a gift and had fled the building for fear of being discovered. Surely, if he had produced a gift, he would remember Kiku and think of him always? _'I wonder when he'll visit again…'_ thought Kiku to himself. It had been several years since they had last met officially, the last few years passing in a painfully lonely blur. The Japanese man yearned for his companion's company, already missing his presence even though they had met not twelve hours before.

_**And you know it's clear, though it was always clear that this was never meant to be – If you happen to remember, stop and think of me!  
**_Their relationship had never been as smooth sailing as everyone thought it to be.

"_What am I to you, Honda?!" he shouted from across the room. It was the first time that he had raised his voice against his lover. But he couldn't take it anymore. First it was lover's history with the German man's elder brother, and now it seemed as though the Asian man was merely using him to advance his country, refusing to participate in any form of intimacy or adoration, but still demanding for technical and financial assistance. It seemed as though his new Asian ally was turning into another Italy, running over to Germany only when help was required._

The truth that the German man didn't know was that his boss had given him subtle verbal warnings regarding 'healthy relationships with fellow colleagues'. He had refrained from taking their relationship further at the time, deciding to focus on the lack of raw materials that he needed to support the war effort. The relationship between the two countries had drifted apart as the war progressed on, but Kiku was happy that once the war had ended, it had only grown stronger and stronger.

_**Think of all this when your world was grim– Don't think about the way things might have been!  
**_The cherry blossoms only reminded him of happy memories; it was something that would never fail to bring his spirits up, no matter what. Had he maintained a stronger bond with _him_, he was sure that his thoughts of the cherry blossoms would be filled with much more happier times, but it was useless to regret and mope around on the past, which could not be altered. Now his only priority was to set right the wrongs he had made in his dark past and hope for a better future. Kiku blushed at the thought: a better future with _him _by his side.

_**Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned…  
**_He also remembered those dreaded days, days where he woke up alive and wished that he wasn't.

_Kiku's eyelids fluttered open as his sight and the rays of the morning sun – the rising sun, assaulted skin. The rising sun seemed half-hearted this morning, as usual. Oxygen flooded into his lungs from the mask he wore on his face. He felt weak, so very weak. Alfred had not come in yet, and he was thankful for that fact. That boy, who had the nerve to visit him after putting him in such a shameful state, often sat by his bedside and talked incessantly about well, essentially, himself. Then sometimes he would come for Kiku's thumbprint, seeing as the Japanese man had no strength in his hands to sign the document himself. Kiku just agreed with everything. There was no point in opposing. There was no other way…_

He remembered that the German man only visited him once he was out of the High-Dependency ward. Kiku recovered rapidly after that encounter.

_**Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind…  
**_Once he got out of hospital and was well enough to get back to work, Kiku decided to strengthen their bilateral ties. They cooperated regarding many different aspects: academic, economic and scientific. There were just so many things that they could do for each other. However, they rarely met face-to-face, the closest meetings being the UN conferences where they usually sat at opposite ends of the room. Kiku found it ironic that they were working closer together now more than ever before, but that they hardly saw each other. At the time, their relationship remained at the level of business partners. Well, very close business partners.

_**Think of me, please say you'll think of me whatever it is you choose to do – There will never be a day, when I won't think of you…  
**_No one raised an eyebrow or batted an eyelid, despite the fact that the Japanese man was often seen signing every possible contract he could with Germany, increasing exports and imports and sending his students over for cultural exchanges. No one saw it as a little _obsessive_, except of course, Kiku himself. He couldn't stop himself – it was a subconscious action. Kiku comforted himself with the fact that he had his nation's best interests in mind and both countries were flourishing due to the newly formed partnership.

_**Long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were…  
**_The German man ambled in _that park_ with the cherry blossom trees, letting the memories swallow him whole.

"_Bruder? Please tell_ _Herr Honda that I like his trees. They look absolutely stunning!" the German teen said, nudging his older brother gently with his elbow. The two Germans were dressed in Prussian army uniforms and sat on the same mat with Kiku, who wore an elaborate kimono especially for his visitors. The younger German had not yet mastered Japanese and still spoke with a thick German accent, so heavily depended on his brother as a translator. He was young and still did not understand the Asian man's culture, so he openly stared at Kiku intently, finding his hair and eye colour very mesmerizing. He never understood why the Japanese man always looked away when he did so. The blond-haired boy devoured his lunch eagerly, wanting to spend less time eating and more time ogling his brother's friend._

That youth had now grown up, and reminiscing on the old days, chuckled to himself as he sauntered on that very same path.

_**Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons, so do we – But please promise me, that sometimes you will think of me!  
**_They both knew that those elfin blooms would fall soon, within the week, even. The flowers may fall, but the tree remains. The beauty of their relationship has bloomed, and will die down, but the relationship will not. In fact, it will grow stronger, firmer as time strengthens it.  
Kiku was standing under one of his older trees when he heard it. A knock on the door.


End file.
